We're Off to See the Wizard  A South Park musical
by Runt Thunderbelch
Summary: The only way the boys can get back to South Park is with the help of a wizard, of a pair of ruby slippers and of Taarna  the hot chick from "Major Boobage" .
1. Tornados Blow

Disclaimer: All characters and events in this story—even those based on real people—are entirely fictional. All celebrity voices are impersonated...poorly. The following story contains coarse language and due to its content it should not be read by anyone. Not only do I not own South Park, this story isn't even based on South Park.

We're Off to See the Wizard

(A South Park musical)

Chapter 1: Tornados Blow

"Okay," said Mr. Mackey, "children listen up. I have an important announcement to make, okay? We've just received word from the Colorado Weather Bureau that a Category 5 tornado is heading straight for us here in South Park. So we're suspending school for the rest of the day, okay? Now, you are not to panic but are to proceed in an orderly manner directly to you homes, okay? It won't help to panic or to run around because whether you run or walk, weather predictions show that, before any of you make it even halfway home, the tornado will arrive here, and you'll most likely all be killed anyway, okay? Have a nice day."

"Oh crap, I don't wanna die!"

"Of course not, Kyle, that's because you're a lousy Jew. You know you'll be spending the rest of eternity burning in hellfire, while I will be in heaven, seated next to my lord and savior, Jesus Christ."

"Fuck you, Cartmen. You have as much chance of making it into heaven as you do of squeezing into a pair of non-fatboy-sized jeans."

"Mfoue hahje od dmbbe lmwnat."

"Kenny's right. His house is the closest to school. We should take shelter there."

"No way! His place is a shack, and it smells funny. I'm not going die in a dump like that!"

"Cartman, you are such an asshole."

"Kubeba xind sjwb nusf wwwj jis!" cried Kenny, and he fled from the building.

"He's right! We gotta get outta here! Come on, Stan!"

"No! I have to make sure Wendy's okay!" Stan hurried away.

"But you'll die! Oh shit. Come on, Cartmen. We have to get home!"

"You go ahead, Kyle. There's something I have to do here."

"What can be more important than living?" Kyle glanced out the window and saw the dark and ominous funnel cloud approaching. "Holy crap!" He fled.

Eric Cartman looked to the left and to the right to make sure that no one was watching him. Then he stealthily made his way to the vending machines. He needed just a little extra fuel to make it home on. It was hell being a kid cursed with big bones.

Stan found Wendy in a deserted corridor. Locker doors hung open. Loose paper littered the floor. "Wendy! Thank God you're okay! C'mon, we have to get out of here!"

"Stan," she said in a small voice, "we have to talk."

"We can't talk now! There's a gigantic tornado coming!"

"Remember when I told you that Bridon Gueermo wasn't a threat to us because he could have any girl in the school he wanted, so why would he want me?"

"Er . . . yes?"

"Well I was wrong. He just told me he wants to be my boyfriend! Isn't it wonderful?"

"Uh . . ."

"Oh, not for you, of course, 'cause I have to dump you. But for me, it's spectacular! And really, it's not so bad for you either, because I know you truly care for me and you want me to be happy, and this is making me happier than anything in my wildest dreams!"

"Uh . . . whoopee, I guess."

She practically floated away.

Stan March stood there with conflicting emotions smashing within him. He was indeed happy that she was happy. On the other hand, it felt that she had just ripped his heart out and had stomped on it. He knew he was free again to do what he wanted, and yet he mourned the loss of her more than anything he'd ever known. He was enraged. He was homicidal. He could feel adrenaline surging through his veins, yet he was paralyzed with grief. Everything was so complicated, so complex, and so contradictory. Yet he could sum the situation up in just two simple words: "Goddamn it."

He threw his head back and sang:

Somewhere, outside of South Park,

Far away,

There's a land that I've heard of

Where love isn't just one-way.

Somewhere outside of South Park,

Skies are blue,

If there's a girl that you love there,

She's one who really loves you too.

Someday I'll buy myself a car

And wake up with this town so far behind me!

I'll find myself some red-hot fox

Like sweet Snow White or Goldilocks.

That's where you'll find me!

Somewhere, outside of South Park,

Somewhere new,

Where each love that you love is

A love that is pure and true.

In the black skies of South Park

Vultures soar.

Yes there, are girls here in South Park,

But I want something so much more.

Yes there, are girls here in South Park,

But I want something so much more!

The windows of the school blew in, showering Stan with shards of glass. Cyclonic winds shrieked like psychotic banshees. Stan threw his hands up over his head, screamed "Holy crap!" and ran.

An ominous silence met Kenny when he came bursting through the front door of his home. It was so strange. Here it was, the middle of the day, and yet the T.V. wasn't on. Kenny knew this wasn't the day his father went down to pick up the welfare check, so what the hell was going on? Where was he?

"Kunndi bdfn?" he called out. "Frtmmvp?"

Outside the wind was beginning to howl. Kenny looked outside and saw the funnel of the tornado dancing ever closer to his house. "Jhttwpm!" He ran and dove under his bed, hit his head, reach in a pulled out a bunch of junk, threw it aside, tried to push his way under the bed again, hit his head again, pulled out more junk, threw it aside too, and dove into the cave he'd just dug.

The house began to tremble. Kenny hoped it was just a bus passing by, but he didn't think so. The trembling turned into a shaking and then into a rattling. Outside, it sounded as if a freight train were rumbling by. Oh my god! It was the tornado!

The walls began to creak and groan. Something fell with a crash. A window shattered, and then another! The whole house shuttered as if being yanked back and forth by a particularly pissed-off giant. The howling of the wind was now a shriek. Dust was falling from cracks in the walls and down from the ceiling. There was a massive crash and then a splintering.

One end of the house was lifted off the ground! It floated back and forth as the tornado clawed at it. This couldn't be happening! Then the remainder of the house was torn from its foundation, and the whole structure was sucked up into the air!

Kenny screamed, "#%*&*(%#}!&!#$!"


	2. A Mystical and Bizarre Looking Land

Chapter 2: A Mystical and Bizarre-Looking Land

The house landed with an almighty crash. Kenny cautiously crawled out from underneath his bed. His hands ran over his body to make sure he was still alive. He was. What do you know, those bastards hadn't killed him!

He got up, went to his front door and opened it. Beyond lay a mystical and bizarre-looking land. He appeared to be in the middle of a small village, right in the middle of the town square. It was filled with tiny, what-appeared-to-be-slightly-human citizens. They were staring with awe and amazement at his now-shattered house.

"Karrtj lpwwqv?"

The nearest man laughed. "Why, don't you know? Well my boy, you're in Canada!"

"Knniduck?"

"Of course." And the crowd behind him began to sing:

We're Canada!

We're not the U-S-A!

True hockey love, and better beer-hooray.

We've got more land and fewer folks

The True North, cold and wet!

With manners nice,

O Canada, we hardly pose a threat.

God forgot us when he passed out the heat

O Canada, we freeze and freeze and freeze!

O Canada, we freeze and freeze and freeze!

At the end of the anthem, a small, weird-looking woman came creeping up to the small, weird-looking man Kenny had been talking to. "Uh, Mr. Mayor, eh? You'd better come and have a look-see at this uh . . . around the corner, eh?"

"What's the matter?"

"Whyyt rd ppujk?"

She mumbled, "Sir, you really have to see it."

The weird-looking woman led the mayor and Kenny around to the back of the house.

From beneath the edge of the wreckage, the legs and feet of a woman emerged. She'd obviously been crushed by the plummeting house. The woman's ruby shoes were pointing toes upwards.

"Good god! Who is she?"

"The ruby shoes are a dead giveaway, eh? It's Brittany Spears, y'know."

"Bbnat Piers?"

"Brittany Spears, no! We finally get a big celebrity like Brittany Speaks to put in a personal appearance up here, and—" He spun and glared at Kenny. "And you dropped a house on her!"

Kenny shrugged. "Srry."

"Whatever shall we do?" wailed the man. "We can't punish you! We're a nation with no death penalty!"

"Jppyraw ccxlpy trilk!" exclaimed Kenny. "Iplu tgrty ol!"

"Mr. Mayor, look!"

He turned to see a rocket-powered black Pontiac Trans Am pull up in front of what was left of Kenny's house. The muscle car slid to a neat halt, its powerful engines went silent, the driver's door swung open, and out stepped miles and miles of leg ending in a suede high-heeled cowgirl boot. This slender and gorgeous leg was followed by a second one-a perfectly matched set. The mayor's eyes traveled upwards to find very little in the way of clothing: a tight triangle over a luscious-looking mound of Venus, some designer lengths of cloth stretching up to her major boobage, cherry-sized nipples straining hard to break through the thin cloth, some medieval shoulder pads, and a broad-brimmed hat. The wine-colored lips of the long-haired beauty smiled lasciviously, and she purred, "Why hello Kenny. Long time no see."

Kenny hadn't seen Taarna since he'd given up cheesing. "Woo hoo!"

The mayor gasped, "You know the Wonderful Witch of the North?"

Kenny nodded vigorously and held open his arms to her.

"There will be time enough for that later, lover," she breathed. "Right now, I understand that you have a problem."

The mayor interrupted. "Problem? You bet there's a problem. He dropped his house right on top of Brittany Spears!"

"Hmm, the music world will never be the same. May I see?"

"I insist," snapped the mayor. He led her around the house and showed her the body.

"That's Brittany alright," agreed Taarna. "I'd know those ruby slippers anywhere. She was quite the trend setter."

A limousine screeched to a halt next to the Trans Am. Its heavy door slammed shut and the clatter of running high heels was heard. "She can't be dead!" a woman's voice wailed. "No, no, it can't be true! Where is the Wicked Witch of East?" Paris Hilton raced around the corner, but came to a stunned halt when she saw the fatal scene. "Noooooooo!"

"Hello, Paris." Was there a hint of a warning in Taarna's greeting?

"Taarna! Are you responsible for this?" Paris Hilton snarled vengefully.

"Oh, would that I were."

The mayor gave a sideways twitch of his head towards Kenny.

"You?" gasped Paris Hilton. "You little monster! You killed the Wicked Witch of the East?"

"Phywesa uttrx vpk."

"Don't be a hypocrite, Paris," Taarna scolded. "You don't care a thing anything about Brittany. No one does. All you want are her shoes."

"The ruby slippers! I'd forgotten about those! They'd go perfectly with this new gown I just bought!" Paris Hilton rushed to the side of the house. But now, the feet of Brittany's corpse were bare. "What? What happened to her slippers?"

Taarna gloated, "What do you think?"

Everyone's eyes went to the feet of Kenny. His worn-out sneakers had been replaced by ruby-red, low-heeled ladies' slippers. "Prsuaw vvfhy kywmzz?"

"Give me those slippers!" shrieked Paris Hilton. "You don't even know how to walk in heels!" She made a grab, but miniature lightning bolts flashed from the slippers, crackling over Paris Hilton's grasping fingertips, breaking several nails.

"Iiiiiiieeeee!"

"It's no use, Paris. You know the spell. Those slippers will remain on the feet of their new owner until he dies."

"Oh, that can be easily arranged!" Paris Hilton pointed an anorexic finger at Kenny's nose. "Wear them in good health, my little lad. I promise you, it won't be for long!" She stormed back to her limousine, got in, and her driver whisked her away.

"I'm afraid you've made an enemy out of the Wicked Witch of the West," Taarna told Kenny.

"Sdwrp ury bbfkd elwrr kufhf!"

"Well you should be. You should be very afraid. She is very powerful, very ruthless, and has the ethical inhibitions of a drunken alley cat in heat."

"Ltdi dwa sbuhb lkvdpw?"

"You'll have to get back to South Park," Taarna explained. "That's the only way you'll ever be safe. But you can't cross the border legally because you didn't come into Canada legally, did you? So, there's only one way for you to get back. You have to get the help of our Wonderful Wizard."

"Wedww wwod lizard?"

"That's right. He lives in the Emerald City at the far end of the Trans-Canadian Highway. To get there, just follow the white on green signs."

"Ba rite angry signs?"

"That's right. Follow the white on green signs."

The town people sang:

Follow the white on green signs.

Follow the white on green signs.

Follow the, follow the, follow the

Follow the white on green signs.

You're off to see our wizard!

That wonderful wizard of ours!

We hear he is a whiz of a wiz

If he'll only stay out of our bars!

He's a bit of crank, but at least he's no Yank

And for that whom do we have to thank?

We thank, we thank, we thank, we thank, we thank-

We thank all the wonderful things he does!

You're off to see our wizard!

That wonderful wizard of ours!


	3. This Story Gets Cornier

Chapter 3: This Story Gets Cornier

Following the white on green signs, Kenny hobbled down the Trans-Canadian Highway on his new, ruby slippers. How did women manage to walk in these things? His feet were killing him; his ankles were killing him; his calves were killing him; his knees were killing him, his thighs were killing him. On the other hand, his butt was quite cute.

"Oh goddamn it," groaned a voice from out of the cornfield he was passing. Kenny tried to peer in through the crops but could see no one. "Son of a bitch."

Kenny left the road and, following the quiet yet persistent cursing, picked his way between the towering stalks of corn. He found Kyle in the middle of the field with a large post stuck up his back.

"Wdaoyy swjen ggskwmm?"

"Oh Kenny, thank god you found me! When I landed, I came down over this wooden post. It's between me and my shirt, and I can't get free. And it's behind me, so I can't climb up it."

"Keswms kojn fv detmdh wdmis?

"Well yeah, I guess I could try unbuttoning my shirt." Kyle did. Then he stepped free, took his shirt from around the post, and put it back on. "Hey, that was really easy."

"Xvza eim ophswp hbn jwpdtg."

"I don't know why I didn't think of that myself. -Oh my god! When I came down, I hit my head pretty hard on the top of that post! You don't think I'm brain damaged, do you?"

"Vfdo ekmd pfon."

"Quick! Ask me a question!"

"Jgwxtkim shwg dgbdnbs rsdn movjufn?"

"Okay, ask me a question that I'd know the answer to."

"Szcs sbd ktun wghnhd dnds ljf?"

"I dunno, I dunno, I dunno! Oh crap, oh crap! I'm brain damaged!"

"Pnsg ubun ddkfd lhgqbz nsofj dndnd. Sjdhd mn encc iqazp shhb wpobou hs."

"Trans-Canadian Highway? Wizard? Get back to South Park? Okay Kenny, I don't know how to break this to you, but it looks like I'm the least brain damaged person in this conversation."

"Swbn opkmpom gspdfm du oefmomc!" Kenny angrily turned on his heel and set off again along the Trans-Canadian Highway.

Kyle had little choice but to follow. He began singing:

Oh, you might think I've been drinkin',

But when it comes to thinkin',

My brain can't take the strain.

Yes I think I slipped a gidget,

'Cause I'm really quite an idjit.

'Cause I haven't got a brain.

I'm a bore on any subject,

A moron and a reject.

And I'm borderline insane.

Yeah, I count on all my toeses,

And then I count up all my noses.

'Cause I haven't got a brain.

Oh I

Can only try

To answer, clear and true.

I can think until my thinker has turned blue

But then I stop!

Say, wouldn't you?

Yep, twos and twos makes foures

To which you say, "Of courses."

Oh you think it's very plain.

But when I'm in a fuddle,

It's a clear as a mud puddle

'Cause I haven't got a brain.


	4. Eric Cartman's in the Can

Chapter 4: Eric Cartman's in the Can

If Kenny and Kyle had paid attention in class, they would have learned that Canada, with its massive oil-shale deposits, exports almost twice as much petroleum to the U.S. as does Saudi Arabia. Knowing this, they would not have been surprised to see those stacks of empty fifty-five gallon oil drums which were stored alongside the Trans-Canadian Highway. Nevertheless, they still would have been surprised to see that, coming out of the top of one of these barrels, were a pair of flailing feet and a series of familiar-sounding grunts.

"Cartman? Eric Cartman, is that you?"

"Uh, who's asking?"

"It's me, Kyle."

"No, this isn't me."

"What are you doing upside down in an oil barrel?"

"I told you asshole, this isn't me!"

"Then who is it, fat ass?"

"How should I know? I'm not even here...uh, there!"

"Are you stuck?"

"No, goddamn it! I'm not stuck! Why in the world would I be stuck in an empty oil barrel?"

"Uh, because you're too fat to pull yourself out?"

"Goddamn it! I'm not fat! I'm just big boned!"

"And because you're not here?"

"Yeah, that's right!"

"Kenny's here with me. We're going to turn you over and get you out of there, okay?

The oil barrel didn't say anything.

"Did you hear me, Cartman?"

"Well, I suppose there must be somebody there with you two, and he's most probably stuck in that oil barrel. So yeah, maybe you should pull him out."

"Hang on. We're coming." Kyle and Kenny hurried over and grabbed the barrel. It took all of their combined strength to turn it upright. Cartman's head and shoulder stuck out of the other end, but the barrel firmly encased him from just below his shoulders to down past his knees.

Kyle said, "I thought you said this wasn't you?"

"Hey! How was I to know what you were talking about? I was upside down with my head stuck in the oil barrel below this one. I couldn't see a thing! -Wait a minute! Uh, Kyle?"

"Yeah?"

"Why is Kenny wearing girl's shoes?"

"Well because . . . uh, it's a long story. Let's get you out of there first."

"He hasn't been recruited by the gay people, has he?"

"No, no, no, it's nothing like that. Now, hold still." But despite all their efforts, the barrel wouldn't move a fraction of an inch either way. "Jesus, Cartman, you are really stuck."

"Tell me something I don't know, Jew boy."

"At least you could show a little gratitude."

"Oh, I'm sorry. It's gratitude you want? So how's this: 'Thanks for nothing.'"

"Cartman, you are one unfeeling, heartless bastard."

"Ludp ubs kabvls sgbujhi sni wpofm jn njsw okncak dkj dnb."

Cartman's jaw dropped. "What?"

"Rond ono omogg frmw dhhhp qdcnhbd hwekp onbe eedk muje. Yod kmb kol tgvygb ith edhbin ehni fjreo jfn oe."

"You're wearing the ruby slippers to walk down the Trans-Canadian Highway to the Emerald City, where a wizard will send you back to South Park and will fix Kyle's brain? And you want him to give me a heart as well?"

"Yp."

"Holy crap. You guys. That is so gay."

"Oh fuck you, Cartman. Come on, Kenny, let's go." The two stated off.

"Hey! You aren't going to just leave me out here?"

"Why the hell not?"

"No, no! I'm coming too!" Cartman waddled quickly after them.

They walked in silence for quite a stretch. This began to remind Kyle of their long trip to Imaginationland. He began softly singing: "Ima-gination. Imagi-nation. I-magination."

"Or crap!" grumbled Cartman. "I always hated that song."

"So can you do any better?"

"I can do better without even trying. Just listen." He sang:

It was imagination

I know.

That what was making

The South Park show go.

It was Mr. Trey.

It was Mr. Matt.

It was tongue-in-cheek, kiss my butt

And you asshole!

I thought it just

Couldn't be

When a piece of poo

Started talking to me.

There was no good taste.

Jokes were all race based.

Parents saw a censorship that they claimed

Was just too free.

But yet imagination

Does fade.

Good ideas flee with

The dawn's early light

Then the network coughed up a cool million,

Imagine that

For me!


	5. The Forest through the Trees

Chapter 5: The Forest through the Trees

Following the white on green signs, the Trans-Canadian Highway led the boys deep into a yellow wood. Before too long, the road diverged in two. In the branch of the fork, stood a sign post. The path to the left was labeled "To Emerald City." It was plain to see that that way had been heavily travelled. The other path was less travelled and was labeled "Not to Emerald City."

"Oh," said Cartman, "we should definitely take the road less travelled."

"The one that's marked 'Not to Emerald City'?"

"Yeah. It seems somehow, I dunno, more poetic."

"Cartman," Kyle said frostily, "that's retarded."

The fat boy rounded fiercely on him. "You will respect my authoritay!"

"Oh crap," Kyle moaned. He knew that when Cartman got like this, there was no reasoning with him. So, down the road less travelled they went.

The woods went from being yellow, to being lime green, to being olive green, to being green, to being forest green, to being dark green, to being really-dark-and-pretty-damn-scary green.

"Shit," grumbled Kyle. "There're probably lions and tigers and bears all around here."

"Og by!" said Kenny.

Cartman sneered, "Canada doesn't have any lions or tigers or bears."

"Og by!" said Kenny.

"Canada doesn't have bears?" Kyle cocked an eyebrow.

"Nope. Not a one."

"Cartman, that's bullcrap."

There was a rustling in some nearby bushes. A branch cracked loudly when something really big and heavy stepped on it. The noise came closer.

"So, Cartman. No lions or tigers or bears, huh?"

"Og by!" said Kenny.

Kyle continued, "Well that's something really big, and most probably carnivorous. It may not be a lion. It may not be a tiger. Hell, it may not even be a bear, but you can bet your last once of fat, it's something huge and horrible!"

"Hi there, kids. I'm Al Gore."

"Ieeeeeeeee!"

The caped crusader emerged from the shrubbery, brushing leaves and twigs off of himself.

"Don't mind him, Mr. Gore. Kyle thought you were a lion or a tiger or a bear."

"Og by!" said Kenny.

"Oh that's just plain silly," said the Oscar-winning ex-Vice President. "There's no lions or tigers or bears around here."

"Y'see, Kyle?"

"They've all been eaten by the manbearpigs."

"Oh shit, not again."

"This part of the forest is just lousy with manbearpigs."

"Mr. Gore, there is no such thing as a manbearpig. That's just something you made up so you could get donations to your stupid charity."

Bushes rustled on the far side of the road less traveled. Branches snapped as whatever it was came closer.

"It's a manbearpig! It's a manbearpig!" shrieked Al Gore running in circles. "Run for your lives! It will kill us all!" And with those parting words, Al Gore raced off down the road.

An apple-fresh face poked out of the bushes. "Hi! It's me, Butters."

"Xsaom oidpop mdu ubu vedo dhd?"

"I know. Stan was supposed to be here, but he asked me to stand in for him. He said he had something more important to do."

"What a minute," said Kyle. "Stan is up here in Canada, but he didn't want to join us?"

"Well," trembled Butters, "I'm sure he wanted to, but gee, whatever it was is just too gosh darn important."

"We're in Canada for Christ's sake," grumbled Kyle. "What could possibly be important here?"

Butters came out of the bushes. Under one arm was tucked an adorably cute, toy lion. "Hey Kenny, nice shoes! Where can I get a pair like that?"

Cartman couldn't believe his ears. "Butters, those are girl's shoes!"

"Aw, you're pulling my leg. Kenny's a boy, so they must be boy's shoes. And boy, are they something!"

"Well, if you really want a pair like that, do what Kenny did. Drop your house on Brittany Spears, and then pry the shoes of her cold, dead feet."

"Uh, no. I wouldn't want to do that."

Cartman could contain himself any longer. "Butters, we're in the fourth grade now. Do you think you're a little old to be carrying around a stuffed toy animal?"

"Oh, he's a lion. My mom gave it to me because lions aren't afraid of nothing. So if I carry it with me, maybe I won't be afraid all the time."

Kyle said, "You know, Butters, we're on our way to Emerald City so that the wizard there can send Kenny back to South Park, and so that he can fix my brain and give Cartman a heart. If you come along, maybe he can give you some courage."

"Well, that sounds great. But you can't get to Emerald City down this road. You have to go back to the fork in the road and take the path more heavily travelled. The only thing this road leads to is the pink and turquoise castle where Paris Hilton lives."

"Holy crap! Paris Hilton? She's vowed to kill Kenny!"

"That bastard!"

Butters blinked. "But she's always been really nice to me. She called me Mr. Biggles and bought me a cuddly bear costume and everything."

"Ftcoimo pkbp edni vtvo po prfcc!" And with those words, Kenny stomped off back towards the fork in the road.

The rest of the guys followed, with Butters singing:

Loo loo loo, I've got me a lion.

Loo loo loo, you've got one too.

Loo loo loo, we can lion together,

Growl and roar and loo loo loo.


	6. When Pigs Fly

Chapter 6: When Pigs Fly

The grunting, miniature, pot-bellied pig flapped its wings and trotted happily across the flagstone courtyard of the pink and turquoise castle.

Paris Hilton gushed, "Ooooooh, isn't he the cutest thing?"

The pig must have thought so too because when it discovered Paris Hilton's free-standing, platinum-framed floor mirror, it stopped and admired itself, grunting contentedly.

"Please Miss Hilton," begged the chained and manacled genetic scientist. "I've created the mutant that you asked for. Now please release me, and let me return home to my family."

"God, I can't believe how selfish you are! Everything has to be about you. Well, you can forget it, mister! You're going to stay here and invent many more wonderful creatures like this for me. Then, once the ruby slippers are mine, I'll be the most magical person in all of Canada!"

"I think you might already be the most magical person in Canada. There's not much competition, you know."

"Oh yeah? What about that skanky-looking blond the magic mirror showed me the other day?"

"Uh, I think you were looking at your own reflection."

"Ugh! No way. That bitch was really skinny and ugly, and she looked like she was strung out on drugs too! She is undoubtedly some cheap whore."

"And you think she wasn't you because . . ?"

Paris Hilton ignored him. She opened a secret panel in the wall, tapped on her magic mirror and said, "Magic Mirror on the wall, where are the ruby slippers?"

Nothing happened.

"I can't fuckin' believe it!" Paris Hilton screeched. "This stupid magic mirror is broken again!"

"It's not broken," said the chained and manacled genetic scientist. "See down there near the bottom? It says, 'Made in San Francisco'. Anything manufactured in San Francisco is going to be artsy-fartsy. Mere prose will have no effect. It needs poetry, or maybe a song."

"A song? It wants me to sing it a song?"

"Or perhaps perform a mime act."

"Oh Jesus, no! A song it will be!" Paris Hilton thought for a few minutes and then began to warble:

So many nights I sit in my castle

Wearing a cute bra and maybe a thong,

Knowing I'm me, and that's what's important.

Then all of these bad folks

Say that I'm wrong.

But you light up my life.

You show me stuff.

You make me strong.

I can do what I want

With no sense of right, or wrong.

Soarin' on C, whacked out of my senses,

Thinkin' of nothing, with nothing to think.

Finally, a chance to say "Hey,

I'm so cool.

Give me a toke, and pour me a drink."

'Cause you light up my life.

You show me stuff.

You make me strong.

I can do what I want

With no sense of right, or wrong.

But when I do wrong

It always feels so right

And you,

You light up my life.

Immediately, the magic mirror began to glow. Paris Hilton peered into it, and saw the images of four male juveniles coming over the top of a ridge.

"Hey guys, look! It's the Emerald City!" Butters was pointing at the incredibly beautiful, emerald-colored, futuristic city which was spread out below them. It lay just beyond a wide field of golden flowers.

"We should leave the road," said Kyle, "and run all the way there!"

"Kwyo snnd ldhtt emd kjfy ppiu!"

"Crap no!" replied Cartman. "You see all those golden flowers? Do you know what they are! Poppies! Acres and acres of poppies!"

"So what? There isn't any opiate effect from the poppy flowers themselves. You have to process them to get heroin."

Cartman sneered, "Heroin? Who's talking about heroin? What I'm saying is that poppies are the state flower of California, Kyle. Think about it, Kyle. California! You know who lives in California? Democrats, that's who. They're everyplace there!"

"Oh Jesus."

"See? There they are, my cute little pig! But they're almost to Emerald City! We have to stop them!"

Paris Hilton looked around and got a wild, a crazy idea. It was her only hope. She ran to her free-standing floor mirror and, not taking the time to call the servants, dragged it herself over to the magic mirror. She turned the free-standing mirror so that it faced the magic mirror. Then she ran to get her collection of DVD movies.

The pot-bellied pig watched her curiously.

Paris Hilton came back lugging the movies. She dropped the box near the two mirrors and then flung open a nearby window. She spun, dropped to one knee, forced a smile onto her face and called, "Here pig, pig, pig."

The unsuspecting pig trotted over.

Paris Hilton grabbed it, heaved it between the two mirrors and then jumped backwards to safety.

The pig let out a small squeal, more startled than hurt.

At first, he grunted hopefully in the direction of Paris Hilton but, sensing her rejection of it, the pig began to turn away. He was halfway through the turn when he looked into the free-standing mirror. As far as his piggy eye could see, stretched out an infinite number of pigs. The porcine squealed in terror and turned to flee. But this made him look directly into the magic mirror, and for a far as his piggy eye could see in this direction, stretched out another infinite number of pigs. The pig squealed even louder and ferociously began flapping his wings. He lifted into the air, but as he flew out from between the two mirrors, the two infinities of pigs burst out of the mirrors and began to follow him.

"Here!" cried Paris Hilton, holding up the box of movies. "Each of you, take one, and fly out the window!"

The pigs obeyed.

"Yes my pets, fly! Fly! To the Emerald City with you! Fly, fly, fly!"

"Oh crap," mumbled Cartman as he ran, "I can feel the poppies working on me. I have a strange desire for affordable health care . . . and a secure retirement pension. I want (gasp, pant) higher pay for school teachers and gay marriage. Let there by equal rights for Jews and blacks. Oh sweet Jesus, what's happening to me? I must make it stop!"

Something plunked at his feet.

Cartman bent to pick it up. "Did you send this to me, Jesus? Is this my salvation from the evil poppies?" He looked at what was in his hand. "A Rob Schneider comedy? This is bullcrap!"

"Deuce Bigalow?" wailed Kyle when he picked up another DVD. "I fell asleep during the opening credits!"

"I don't think I've ever seen this one," said Butters. "Is it any good?"

"Does it star Rob Schneider?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Then it's horrible!"

"Oh no! The Hot Chick? It's putting me to sleep right through its plastic cover. I can't keep my eyes open."

"Jtdo whhhsb ij jnjnfs kkwrp ksj rfzzzzz!"

Overhead, swarms of winged pigs circled, dropping more and more Rob Schneider movies.

"Movies . . . so . . . bad," moaned Cartman, as he staggered, barely able to keep moving forward.

"Eyelids heavy," mumbled Kyle.

"Licbzz ndbzzzzz bbfzzzzzzzz," agreed Kenny.

"Nothing could keep my eyes open now."

"Hmmm," said Butters. "It must be nap time."

The thunder of rocket engines was coming closer. The black Pontiac Trans Am was coming fast, ripping up the poppies. The mighty car skidded to a halt, and the driver's door swung open.

As Kenny's eyelids were closing for the last time, his gaze fell upon the major boobage of Taarna, and his eyeballs popped open. "Woo hoo!"

Cartman gaped. "Goddamn, do they actually make women who look like that?"

Kyle moaned, "I am going to get in so much trouble."

"Quick!" shouted Taarna. "Get in the car! Paris Hilton is trying to kill you! Come with me if you want to live!"

Cartman grinned. "Dear Lord, for what we are about to receive, let us be truly thankful." He jumped into the car next to her. Kenny and Kyle scrambled in after him.

Butters shook his head and backed away. "I'm not supposed to get in a car with strangers."

"Butters!" roared Cartman. "Get in the fucking car!"

"But, but, but . . ."

"Get in the car!"

The little boy meekly obeyed.

Taarna hit the gas, and they took off.

It was a short sprint to the main gates of Emerald City. The flying pigs oinked their outrage at having lost their prey and came winging angrily after them. When the Trans Am approached the front gates, Taarna skidded it to a halt and killed the rocket engines. Everybody jumped out and ran the rest of the way up to the gates. They were painted green, of course, and bore gigantic, twin, circular, iron rings. A sign read:

Doorbell broken.

Use knockers.

Taarna sighed and said, "A girl's got to do what a girl's got to do. She twisted her body and slammed her massive boobage into the gates. They splintered under the weight of the assault and collapsed. "Everybody inside!"


	7. Green City Blues

Chapter 7: Green City Blues

Everything inside was green in color: the buildings, the pavement, the sidewalks, the bushes, the cars, the clothing on the people, park benches, lampposts, refuse cans, dogs, cats, birds, fire engines, traffic signals, ladies' hats, men's cigars, the Canadian flag, the sign on the barbershop, wedding cakes, hot dog stands, the hot dogs themselves plus the mustard and the catsup. Everything was friggin' green.

Cartman took a step backwards and gasped, "Holy crap!"

Kyle blinked his eyes. "It's a little overwhelming."

"Krso gghso jnonw psjudgt sxmdk," agreed Kenny.

"Ooh ooh ooh, wow," stammered Butters.

Taarna nodded. "Emerald City is the greenest city in the world. We recycle everything here, not only all our materials goods, but we also recycle our water, our waste, our energy, our air, even our food.

Kyle shook his head. "I can't even imagine how you'd recycle food."

Taarna smiled triumphantly. "It's very simple. You simply—"

"FOR CHRIST'S SAKE, DON'T TELL ME!"

Butters gazed in wonder. "The people here must really love environmentalism."

"Oh yes, they truly do," nodded Taarna.

"No, we don't."

"Yes, you do."

"The hell we do."

"Don't tell me what you love and don't love!"

A hostile crowd was gathering now. "We're damned tired of it! -And I want to trash something right now!"

"You're all world leaders in saving our planet!"

"I want a glass of water that didn't come out of someone's urinary tract." There were rumbles of agreement. When one person began singing, the rest quickly joined in:

It ain't easy being green

Shredding little birdies with spinning turbine blades

When I think, I think it would be nicer burning coal

Or firewood or oil.

You see, it ain't easy being green.

Hydropower destroys the river's habitat and kills fish.

Solar is land intensive, and inefficient.

And you can try geothermal with falling output.

Biomass blackens the bluest blue sky.

But they say that green is the color of spring.

Yet green can stink like dead algae,

Be poisonous like e coli,

And electrical like

A car that's tiny and slow.

Oh me.

But when green is what we all must be,

It kind of makes you wonder why

Why wonder, wonder why?

Hey, we're green or else we face a fine.

'Cause green, goddamn, is what we have to be.

"Oh dudes," breathed Cartman, "this is one sad place. Let's find that stupid wizard and then get the hell out of here."

"Yeah."

"Ko ya," agreed Kenny.

"We need to take this government-provided taxi to get to the wizard's palace," Taarna said. She led them to a small, strange-looking vehicle with a large propeller blade on top. "It's a drive-it yourself vehicle."

"Cool!" gushed Cartman. "It sorta like one of those swamp boats from the Everglades that just rip through the swamp at bodacious speeds!"

"No, no, that's not a propeller. A propeller would waste energy and be oh-so-not green. It's a wind turbine. This is a wind-powered car."

"But there's no wind."

"Oh, that happens occasionally. That's why you, Kyle and Butters will have to push."

"Push? That's bullcrap!"

"Cartman, have you even seen me get angry?" asked Taarna sweetly. "Not just a little miffed, but homicidally, totally-out-of-my-skull, rip-you're-spinal-cord-out-your-asshole crazy?"

"Uh, no ma'am."

"Do you want to?"

"Uh, no. Me and Kenny and Kyle and Butters want to push."

"No, not Kenny. He rides in the car with me."

"Why? What for?"

Kenny said, "Woo hoo!"

"Ugh, ugh, ugh," grunted Cartman and Kyle and Butters as they pushed the car along.

Taarna rolled down her window. "You need to push faster. We have to get there before darkness falls."

"What's the big deal about darkness?" asked Kyle. "There are street lights everywhere."

"Yes, but they're solar-powered street lights. Once the sun goes down, they don't work."

"Oh, Jesus H. Christ."

Just as the sun was setting, the car pulled up in front of the Emerald Palace. It was green in color (surprise!). They walked up to the main palace entrance.

"The doors will open automatically," Taarna told them. "They're geo-thermically powered."

"Do they work?" grumbled Cartman.

"Of course, they work," replied Taarna.

A huge jet of scalding stream sprayed over them, Cartman screamed, and the main gates to the palace swung open.

"Fuck, that was hot!" gasped Cartman.

Steaming hot droplets dripped from them as they entered into the Emerald Palace. Both sides of the entry hall were lined with scantily clad handmaidens. Normally, they would have been breathtakingly beautiful except that they were all, well, Canadian.

"I must leave you here," said Taarna. "These parenthetical singers will take you to the Wonderful Wizard.

"Lpsh gvygb twbe kghb?"

She sighed. "Long ago, the wizard and I had a falling out. It's best that he not see me with you."

"Wait," said Kyle. "Why are these girls called parenthetical singers?"

"All will be revealed," she assured them. Then she left.

"Lxsr gyh kdi bvf?"

"No Kenny. When Taarna said, 'All will be revealed,' I don't think that was a promise that she will be taking her clothes off."

"%#!*(%$!"


	8. Kenny Gets the Shaft

Chapter 8: Kenny McCormick Gets the Shaft

The handmaidens led the boys down the green entryway and into the great audience chamber. The huge, green room was dominated by a large and very wide, green pedestal which currently stood empty. On the left side of it was a green chimp going, "ooh, ooh, ooh," and on the right side was a green parrot going, "awk, awk, awk kawk."

"Wow," trembled Butters. "The wizard doesn't appear to be home. Maybe we should just leave."

"And go where?" growled Cartman. I didn't come all this way and push a stupid car halfway across this lousy city just to turn around and leave!"

Kyle added smugly, "And you know it's gonna be Stan."

"What?"

"Well think about it. Everything that's happened to us since we got to Canada is something right out of that movie."

Butters asked, "What movie?"

"Kenny is Dorothy; I'm the scarecrow; Cartman's the tin man, Butters is the lion, and we've had all three witches. The only major character we haven't had yet is the wizard, and Stan still hasn't shown up. We know he's here in Canada, and so Stan must be the wizard!"

"Kessx vfdh udh kkr lhdy?"

"Yes, I'm sure of it."

"Then where is he?" asked Cartman. He shouted out loudly, "Hey asshole!"

A deep and sonorous voice echoed back and forth across the gigantic chamber. "Who disturbs the great and wondrous wizard?"

"It's me, Eric Cartman! Where the fuck are you!"

Butter gulped, "That doesn't sound very much like Stan."

"And I," said Kyle, his voice less sure. "Kyle Broflovski. Is that you, Stan?"

The voice declared, "I am not Stan!"

"Uh oh," mumbled Butters, "Um, I'm Leopold Stotch. But everyone calls me 'Butters.' You can call me 'Butters' too. Er…hi!"

"Ek eye m Knny Mckmk."

"Who?"

"Knny Mckmk."

"Ahhhh!" sighed the basso profundo voice. "Mr. McCormick, your reputation precedes you." The air above the pedestal began to flicker with an eldritch, green flame. The green fire turned slowly to yellow-orange and took on the shape of a gigantic human. But no human's face was as horrible as this. The monstrous face glared down at them. "Nice shoes."

"Xfdi hjdb cdl pvjfge."

The green chimp went, "ooh, ooh, ooh," and the green parrot replied, "awk, awk, awk kawk."

Ooh, ooh, ohh, awk, awk, awk, kawk

Ooh, ooh, ohh, awk, awk, awk, kawk

Ooh, ooh, ohh, awk, awk, awk, kawk

Who's the kid in the cute snowsuit

That's a sex machine to the girls who'll do it?

(Kenny!)

Damn right!

Ooh, ooh, ohh, awk, awk, awk, kawk

Ooh, ooh, ohh, awk, awk, awk, kawk

Who's the kid who'll risk his neck

For another kid?

(Kenny!)

Can ya dig it?

Ooh, ooh, ohh, awk, awk, awk, kawk

Ooh, ooh, ohh, awk, awk, awk, kawk

Who's the kid who won't cop out

When there's danger all about?

(Kenny!)

Right on!

They say this kid Kenny is a bad . . .

(Shut your mouth!)

I'm talking about Kenny.

He's a complicated kid,

But not as complicated as dividing fractions.

(Kenny McCormick!)

Ooh, ooh, ohh, awk, awk, awk, kawk

Ooh, ooh, ohh, awk, awk, awk, kawk.

"Sjni mijdm dvwl plf bveokp medpfj eehb. Jdjjhbs dewdfog dbd svvs eedjghg grkdgc ndbec kdndbsv."

"And get me out of this goddamn barrel!" added Cartman, wiggling to demonstrate how stuck he was.

"Hmmm," mused the deep voice. "So it's home for Kenny, repair Kyle's brain, free Cartman and give him a heart and give Butters some courage. Sure, that's no problem. I can do that. But there's one thing you have to do for me first."

"Uh oh," gulped Cartman.

"Bring me the magic mirror of Paris Hilton."

"No, no, no," stammered Butters. "She loves that mirror. For us to take it, why, we'd have to kill her!"

"How you get it is of no concern of mine. Just get it!"

"But, but, but, sir—"

"GET IT!"

Butters was the first to break, screaming and running back up the entryway. But the other boys were close behind him.

Outside, Butters was blubbering. "I don't want to kill Paris Hilton."

"Kydf ggsj foypof gdnd mmd!"

"But if we don't," said Kyle, "then we might never get home."

"To be stuck in Canada forever would be fucking awful," agreed Cartman. "But to murder someone, that's a little extreme. How are we supposed to do that?"

Kyle thought for a moment. "Can't you just pretend you're Adolph Hitler and she's Anne Frank?"

Cartman brightened. "Oh yeah. I can do that!"


	9. A Bear in the Air

Chapter 9: A Bear in the Air

The blue mismatched eyes of Paris Hilton semi-focused on the scene in the magic mirror. Four boys were walking through a yellow wood. Each of them had on an emerald green backpack. (What Paris Hilton couldn't see is that the backpacks contained the weapons which the boys were planning to use to destroy her.) The four boys were heading towards her pink and turquoise castle. The smallest of them looked oddly familiar.

"Oh my god! It's Mr. Biggles! Look, pig, it's Mr. Biggles!"

The winged pig snuffed curiously at the magic mirror.

"But he's not wearing the bear costume I bought him! I can't believe it! I thought he'd be my BFF!"

"Oink?"

"Oh my god, I don't know if I can handle the rejection. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! I'm going to need one of my anti-stress capsules, and one of my anti-depressants, and an albuterol tab, and to see my maharishi. Scotch! Is there any scotch in the castle? And is there anything to smoke in my bong? Oh my god, why do bad things only happen to me?"

"Oink?"

"Wait a minute! Look at that kid with him! The one in the snowsuit! It's the kid who stole my ruby slippers!"

"Oink?"

"There they are! Those are my slippers! There they are! God, I need them for Friday night's party! I will look so fucking cute in them! I must have them!"

"Oink?"

"Is that all you can say?"

The winged pig backed away nervously.

"Just don't stand there! Take your winged minions and go capture Mr. Biggles and the kid with my ruby slippers! Do what you will with the other two! Now GO!"

The miniature pot-bellied pig squealed, spun, and raced for the open window. His genetically grown wings spread wide and out he went. Behind him, his porcine mirror images followed, squealing and grunting.

The four boys marched along towards Paris Hilton's pink and turquoise castle. As they marched, they sang their war song:

Mum mum mum mah

Mum mum mum mah

We want to smash her like they in Texas State,

Fold her, spindle, mutilate her; put her head upon a plate.

(We hate her)

Her decapitation will bring joy to all mankind,

And when she's in a coffin,

She'll be satanically consigned.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, ohhhh,

Ohh-oh-e-ohh-oh-oh

We'll slit her throat,

Throw her in the moat.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, ohhhh,

Ohh-oh-e-ohh-oh-oh

We'll slit her throat,

Throw her in the moat.

Take a sword, take a knife,

And then we'll poke her face!

(She thinks that she's somebody.)

Take a sword, take a knife,

And then we'll poke her face!

(That somebody will be bloody.)

And so we'll poke her face, yeah we'll poke her face.

Mum mum mum mah

And so we'll poke her face, yeah we'll poke her face.

Mum mum mum mah

I wanna bash her with some hard mahogany,

And spill the blue blood from her lofty pedigree.

(We hate her)

Russian Roulette is a game that she can play

And when the game is over, she'll never walk away, no way.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, ohhhh,

Ohh-oh-e-ohh-oh-oh

We'll slit her throat;

Throw her in the moat.

Take a sword, take a knife,

And then we'll poke her face!

(She thinks that she's somebody.)

Take a sword, take a knife,

And then we'll poke her face!

(That somebody will be bloody.)

And so we'll poke her face, yeah we'll poke her face.

Mum mum mum mah

And so we'll poke her face, yeah we'll poke her face.

Mum mum mum mah

We'd be embarrassed to be Paris

And be the rarest barest.

With my muffin in the sun and,

All the lyin', I'm just shunnin' all the bad rerunnin'.

She'll hang out with Al Pacino,

Daddy's bank will always bail her out.

She'll promise that, promise this,

And think she's marvelous!

Take a sword, take a knife,

And then we'll poke her face!

(She thinks that she's somebody.)

Take a sword, take a knife,

And then we'll poke her face!

(That somebody will be bloody.)

And so we'll poke her face, yeah we'll poke her face.

Mum mum mum mah

And so we'll poke her face, yeah we'll poke her face.

Mum mum mum mah

Suddenly, flying pigs swooped out of the woods and down on the four boys. They were under attack!

"Holy crap!"

"(&*%$!#%/!"

Kyle was the first to think of taking off his emerald green backpack and smashing the attacking pigs with it. The other boys soon saw how effective that was, and Kenny and Butters followed suit. Cartman's oil barrel acted like medieval armor, making him impervious to the bites of the pigs.

It was a battle royal, at least for awhile. The weight and strength of Cartman and Kyle were ample enough so they could fight off the pigs. But that wasn't true for the two smaller boys. The flying pigs were able to knock the backpacks out of their hands. Then piggy mouths closed on their shirt collars and hoisted them into the air.

"They've got Kenny and Butters!"

Cartman smashed into a cluster of pigs while Kyle grabbed for the little boys' ankles. But he was too late. Kenny and Butters, screaming in terror, were carried away by the triumphant pigs.

Cartman watched them go and groaned, "Their parents are going to fucking kill us."


	10. Castle Hilton

Chapter 10: Castle Hilton

"Mr. Biggles, why have you done this to me?" wailed Paris Hilton. "How could you walk around without your bear suit on?"

"Well gee, Miss Hilton, after you left, there didn't seem to be much point. All the other kids were making fun of me-"

"Why do people only think about themselves? Why don't they ever think about me?"

Butters quailed, holding his stuffed lion tighter. "I'll do anything you say, Miss Hilton."

"You will? Splendid! I have another bear suit downstairs! I'll go get it. You can put it on. Then you'll wear the suit, I'll slit Kenny's throat, take the ruby slippers, wear them to Friday night's party, and everything will be wonderful!"

"Jtsnw hhs omo sg ijoew jnpss fzrp!"

"Oh, who cares what you think? I'll go get the bear suit!" She hurried off.

Kenny tried the door, but Paris Hilton had locked it behind her. He began running around to the various windows of the tower room, desperately looking for a way out, but the two boys were just up too high. The outside walls of the tower were sheer and unclimbable. "Shbs oedpl bu bun eed hd hdb hbuhes!"

Butters came over to one of the windows and looked down to the moat far below. "Wow, that's a long way down," he said. Then he looked at his stuffed lion. "I'm sorry to have to do this to you, little buddy, but you're our only hope. You have to run and get help." He kissed the toy lion on the forehead and then tossed it gently out the window.

The lion fell down, down, down, down, down and at last plopped into the castle moat. For a second, it disappeared beneath the water, then reappeared, floated for awhile on the surface, and then sank into the watery darkness forever.

Butters cursed, "Oh hamburgers!"

Downstairs, Paris Hilton was rummaging through one of her many closets. As she looked for the bear costume, she sang to herself:

Oh won't you be,

My lovin' teddy bear?

I'll put a chain around your neck

And lead you everywhere.

Oh won't you be,

My teddy bear?

I don't wanna have no big ape

'Cause they always play too rough.

I don't wanna have no cheetah

'Cause a cheater's cheatin'

Is somethin' I've enough!

So won't you be, my teddy bear?

I'll put a chain around your neck

And lead you everywhere.

Oh won't you be,

My teddy bear?

She squealed with delight when she found the bear costume. Then she went racing off to the kitchen to grab a gigantic butcher knife. When Paris Hilton got back to the main flagstone courtyard of the pink and turquoise castle, some of her servants were in the process of marching Kenny and Butters down the ornate spiral staircase.

"Oh good!" she exclaimed. "I have an extra bear costume of Mr. Biddles and a knife for that boy there!"

"Fijs mon sfrdl ndbdb vshh vz!"

A servant stuck his head into the courtyard. "Excuse me, Miss Hilton. There's a pair of door-to-door diamond salesmen who wish to speak with you."

Paris Hilton stopped dead and turned on a . . . Wait a minute. She would never turn on a dime. Paris Hilton turned on a twenty-dollar gold piece. "Diamonds?" she drooled.

"I'll show them in." A few moments later, Kyle and Cartman were ushered into the courtyard.


	11. Is Paris Melting?

Chapter 11: Is Paris Melting?

"Good afternoon, Miss Hilton," simpered Kyle, "whom we have never seen before, ever. We understand you are in the market for some high-quality diamonds."

"You have . . ." Paris Hilton gulped and tried to catch her breath, ". . . _diamonds?"_

"Why of course. Here, look." His hand reached into his backpack and came out with a handful of sparkling gemstones.

"Those aren't diamonds! Those are rhinestones!"

"Precisely!" cried Kyle in triumph, and he hurled them at her.

"Ieeeee! They burn! They buuuurn!"

Kenny and Butters ran over and grabbed their own backpacks. Their hands dove inside and came up with—

"Miss Hilton, look, luxurious fur!"

Paris Hilton gazed in horror. "No, you wretched, little beast! That's cheap acrylic!"

"Yes!" It too was hurled at her. She shrieked when it touched her flesh.

"Jfdw kjn ufle vsnsn mdbb bxsw kcd!"

"That's not champagne! It's Cold Duck!"

Kenny shook the bottle and sprayed her with it.

"Oreos!"

Paris Hilton shook her head. "No. Hydrox!" She was showered with the cheap cookies.

"Brie!"

"No, cheese food! What awful stuff! It's not cheese, and it's not food! Noooooo!" It too had been thrown at her.

"Nhvs nobv gwxyu plfn sswicnj!"

"That's not Coca Cola; it's a generic brand!"

Kenny laughed manically and sprayed her with it.

"Help me! Help me! I'm melting!" cried Paris Hilton as she turned into plastic goo and dripped slowly towards the floor. "I'm melting! What a world! What a world! To think someone as gorgeous as me could be destroyed by four little nothings armed with nothing but cheap knock offs!" She ended up as a gooey puddle, which bore a striking resemblance to a giant, melted credit card.

"You killed her!" gasped one of the servants.

"Ks gsgh shs jjsw suhxg mxn."

The servant sunk to his knees. "All hail, Kenny!"

Behind him, the other servants began a rhythmic clapping:

Oh Kenny

You're so fine.

You're so fine

You blow my mind.

Hey Kenny!

(hey hey)

Hey Kenny!

(hey hey)

Hey Kenny,

You gave us such a fright,

And we've suffer for so long,

But you've really done all right.

Still, the cops will say it's wrong.

So won't you say "good night"

And won't you say, "so long," Kenny.

Yes, take off for the hills,

Or run down to the dale,

You've cured up all our ills,

But they'll throw your ass in jail,

You give our hearts a thrill

But we can't afford your bail, Kenny.

Oh Kenny,

You bad penny,

Head out on the lamb.

It may be Murder One,

But still we think you're grand!

Oh Kenny,

You bad penny,

Can't you understand:

The cops want you, Kenny!

For what you did, Kenny;

Did Kenny,

You killed her dead, Kenny!

Hey Kenny,

Now she's just some goo,

And the world's a better place,

But what you'd better do

Is to leave without a trace.

'Cause the cops are after you.

So make some haste, Kenny!

So go on

And skedaddle,

Take it on the lamb!

Any way you want to scat,

We don't give a damn.

Oh please

Kenny please

Get out while you can, Kenny!

Oh Kenny,

You bad penny,

Head out on the lamb.

It may be Murder One,

But still we think you're grand!

Oh Kenny,

You bad penny,

Can't you understand:

The cops want you, Kenny!

For what you did, Kenny;

Did Kenny,

You killed her dead, Kenny!

Oh Kenny

You're so fine.

You're so fine

You blow my mind.

Hey Kenny!

(hey hey)

Hey Kenny!

(hey hey)

Oh Kenny

You're so fine.

You're so fine

You blow my mind.

Hey Kenny!

(hey hey)

Hey Kenny!

(hey hey)


	12. There's No Place like South Park

Chapter 12: There's No Place like South Park

The four boys wrestled Paris Hilton's magic mirror in through the entrance of the Emerald Palace. The scantily clad handmaidens preceded them down the long entryway to the great audience chamber. Above the wide, green pedestal, the fiery, yellow-orange giant turned and snarled in his deep base voice, "Who dares to disturb the great and wondrous wizard?"

"Lod yugbu hubnuds fdjd ixfe, bdbx fs sdhnf ndnd," explained Kenny. "Jss jsjke cbctd msus klskb."

"You did what?" gasped the fiery giant. "You actually managed to kill her? Why chilluns, I didn't think you had it in you!"

"Wait a minute," said Kyle. "Chef?"

"Uh. Chef who?"

"Don't fuck around," barked Cartman. "Chef, we know it's you."

A kindly African-American face poked out from behind an emerald green curtain. "What gave me away?"

"God damn, this is all a rip off!"

"Hxze wmfi jdejl oid dsjkensz lwakq!"

"You're not really a wizard?" mumbled Kyle in bewilderment. "Now, how will we ever get home?"

Butters blubbered, "And how will I ever get any courage?"

"Why Butters," Chef exclaimed in utter surprise. "You just battled and defeated one of the greatest forces of evil in the entire universe. How much more courage do you think you need?"

"I did? Jiminy, I guess I did! Wow!"

"As for getting y'all home, that's easy."

"Dammit, you'd better not say it!"

Chef smiled. "See. You know the answer as well as I do."

"All that has to happen is that Kenny has to click the heels of his slippers together three times, we say 'There's no place like home,' and presto, we'll be there? Just like in the movie?"

"What movie?" asked Butters.

Kyle snapped, "But you said you'd fix my brain!"

"Fix the brain of the boy who figured out how to defeat Paris Hilton? Boy, there's nothing wrong with your brain."

"What about Cartman's heart?"

"Didn't he invade the pink and turquoise castle of Paris Hilton so that he could rescue two of his friends? That sounds like plenty of heart to me."

Cartman sneered, "But I'm still stuck in this goddamn oil can!"

"And, you haven't had anything to eat since you got to Canada. That should make this a simple matter." Chef came out from behind his emerald curtain, walked over to Cartman, put his big arms around the 55-gallon drum and lifted it away.

"Goddamn it," growled Cartman. "That was too damn easy."

"Now chilluns," said Chef sagely. "It's time you said the magic words."

He was right. So they began to sing:

You know, we're four kids from South Park

And that will never change. (Let's rock out!)

There's no place, no place like home!

There's no place, no place like home!

How can we leave our home, how can we dare to roam?

There's no place like South Park, no-no place like South Park.

Why were we trying, to always leave ya?

Oh what were we thinking?

Maybe, we were not thinking.

How can we just walk out, and

Leave so completely

When we know we still love it?

Claiming it was never good enough

Thinkin' that we were real hot stuff!

We know it's no right so

We stop and head back there.

How can we leave

We know we must believe:

There's no place, no place like home!

There's no place, no place like home!

How can we leave our home, how can we dare to roam?

There's no place like South Park, no-no place like South Park.

There's no place, no place like home!

There's no place, no place like home!

How can we leave our home, how can we dare to roam?

There's no place like South Park, no-no place like South Park.

Why can't we just, just take a breath?

'Cause it's there we're home

To deal with our life and our death.

No place can ever make us fell the way we,

We feel when we are there,

Though it is a nightmare.

Claiming it was never good enough

Thinkin' that we were real hot stuff!

We know it's no right so

We stop and head back there.

How can we leave

We know we must believe:

There's no place, no place like home!

There's no place, no place like home!

How can we leave our home, how can we dare to roam?

There's no place like South Park, no-no place like South Park.

Back to the day when we were so young, dumb and stupid

When all our troubles, they started with cupid.

So tell me, why did we leave?

Did we conceive to believe and perceive

That we need only deceive?

There's no place, no place, no place, no place

Like home!

Kenny clicked the heels of his ruby slippers together three times, and with the screeching of a Canadian blizzard, the boys were swept up and carried away south towards the great state of - well, the mediocre state of – Colorado.

As they were swept towards the distant horizon, Kyle cried out, "But where the fuck is Stan!"


	13. Epilog

Chapter 13: Epilogue

Stan Marsh rocketed along in the passenger seat of the black Pontiac Trans Am. "You know what?" he said thoughtfully. "I've learned something today."

Taarna's luscious, wine-colored lips smiled.

Stan continued, "Wendy left me because she went looking for something better. But is Bridon Gueermo really better? I mean, really? Sure he's cuter than me, and he's a great basketball player and a great singer and dancer. But so what? He's shallow. He didn't even have the courage to stand up to his own father until I made him. He doesn't love Wendy. He's too busy going after what he wants for himself to truly care for anyone else, not the way I can. I love Wendy, and, when it comes right down to it, is there be anything better? I don't think so.

"Wendy's with Bridon for the moment, but only until she realizes her choice is between having a status-symbol boyfriend and having true love. When a girl is faced with that choice, who's she going to choose? The answer's obvious.

"So all I have to do is bide my time, to remain patient and true to Wendy. Sooner or later, she'll realize what she's lost, and she'll come back to me. And when she does, I'll be waiting. In the end, nothing will be able to come between us."

The Trans Am hit a bump in the road, an elastic band snapped, and Taarna's major boobage came cascading out!

Stan forgot all about Wendy. He vaguely remembered he'd been mumbling something about true love, but that all faded into ancient history now. His mind was supremely focused on ogling Taarna's soft, pale pink, jiggling flesh. As if in a dream, he heard his own voice cry out, "Wooo hoooooooo!"

On the upper curvature of Taarna's major boobage was the tattoo of a rainbow. It was lovely. And there he was – Stan Marsh – somewhere, over the rainbow!

The End

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

You know what? I've learned something today.

I originally conceived Paris "Wicked Witch of the West" Hilton as evil. But the character just didn't work that way. "Evil Paris" didn't work even when I tried to have her sing a version of "B-B-B-B-Bad to the Bone" - because Paris Hilton isn't evil. She may be a spoiled, self-centered, self-indulgent, ill-educated, bimbo who suffers from delusions of adequacy, but she isn't evil. Once I let Paris be Paris, she became much funnier.

So, villains don't have to be evil.

"Green City Blues" was, psychologically, the hardest chapter for me to write. It runs contra to ideals I deeply believe in. I am a tree-kissing liberal, and writing a chapter that rips the ecological movement was painful. But, although portraying the Emerald City as an ecotopia might be considered clever, it just wasn't funny. It only became funny when everything went wrong. I still chuckle when I think of the solar-powered street lights that only work when the sun's up. My thanks goes out to the Cato Institute for a (IMHO) hatchet piece it issued on alternative energy. It was very helpful.

So, I learned that, when faced with a choice of sticking by one's deeply held principles or going for a cheap laugh, you go for the cheap laugh.

Everything Kenny says is muffled. As I wrote his dialogue here, it became clear to be that a remarkable amount of what characters say in stories is not important. Kenny's lines were unintelligible, but it didn't seem to matter.

So, when writing dialogue, slkssm bi ijnijmd bhus mki whnid jdnn jnojnd, okay?


End file.
